


Staring Contest

by Blue_Robin



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Thoughts Can Lead To Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:34:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Robin/pseuds/Blue_Robin





	Staring Contest

He’s slouched on the sofa in the front office, watching her on the phone as she uses her skills at accents to obtain information on an appointment held by one of the people they’ve got under surveillance. He watches her and thinks, “Look at me. Just look at me.”

Her eyes suddenly flash to his. Blue grey flaring with a slight intensity.

Neither looks away.

Dark clashes with light.

Just like them. Always.

He’s so dark.

She’s so fair.

His life full of darkness and uncertainty.

Hers filled with love and tenderness.

Though they’ve both had their share of trauma.

She finishes speaking.

He doesn’t even hear what she says.

He just holds her gaze with his because he knows that if he doesn’t something between them will break.

She sets the phone back in the cradle and stands up. Her stormy eyes still captured by his.

“Come here. Come closer,” He thinks at her again, this time he sits forward on the sofa. Alert, slouch gone.

She moves around her desk, pulled to him by this staring contest they’re having.

Heat rises in his chest. His heart pounds so loud he’s sure they’ll mistake it for a bass beat down in the club below.

His forearms rest along the length of his thighs, his hands dangling in an imitation of relaxation.

As she steps closer one of those hands lifts and wraps around her wrist. Exerts slight pressure, tugging her down toward him.

She finally breaks the stare as she lowers herself to her knees in front of him.

His hand slides from her wrist, up her arm, into her hair. His thumb nudges the underside of her chin. His eyes snag hers again.

“I want to kiss you. Long. Deep. Forever,” his gaze asks permission.

He watches the fog roll into her eyes as they drop to his lips.

Her hands slide along his thighs and up his torso. Leaving ripples of sensation behind. Her right thumb grazes his cheekbone, where a slight bruise lingers. Remnants of a punch thrown by a mark.

She leans forward, between his thighs. The sides of her breasts rubbing against the insides of his thighs. Soft and supple. His eyes drift closed as her full lips come to rest on that bruise.

“Robin…” he whispers.

“Shhh.” She brushes her thumb against his cheekbone again before rising further up on her knees, tilting his head back and laying her lips against his softly.

He groans at this, the first touch of her lips to his. He’s felt these lips once before, accidentally. But this is the first time she’s pressed hers to his.

His arms clasp around her. Lifting, pulling, tugging her into his lap.

Her knees split to allow her to straddle his waist as he pulls her body to his. His tongue delving between the lips she deliberately left parted for him. Her tongue meets his and dances against it.

She tastes like sweet tea and a hint of mint. She tastes nothing like his dreams of her. Her taste is beyond dreams.

He breathes deep, gentles himself. Reminds his Need for her that she’s accepted this now. She agreed. She’s theirs.

He smooths her hair beneath his palm as he eases back from her mouth. Her lips remain puckered, her eyes remain closed, her tongue slips out to lick her bottom lip, as though to gather just another taste of him, as though she doesn’t want any part of him left on her to go to waste.

“Robin,” he whispers again. She opens her eyes slowly, a dreamy languidness visible in the smoky depths as her gaze meets his again.

She sighs before leaning forward and resting her head on his shoulder. Her hands fold against his chest, one wrapped in his, his thumb gently stroking her palm. His other arm wraps around her waist, stroking her hip under her plain black skirt.

He turns his face and presses a gentle kiss to her unblemished cheekbone and closes his eyes. At peace with his world now that she is gathered into him.

“She’ll be there at three,” Robin whispers.

“Thanks.”


End file.
